The time was 06:24. The Command Shuttle was over an hour late.

You were already cranky. You hadn't wanted to wake up as early as you did, and you especially hadn't wanted to do it just to train Dash "Double-Douche" Damarcus on post-flight procedures. Why it was even necessary for you to review such basic protocol was beyond you--but you supposed that they wanted to be thorough, considering you'd essentially be discharged following the completion of his training. And maybe it was a good thing that you didn't see an end date to your assignment on the Finalizer just yet.

"Is it always this late?" Dash asked, leaning against the diagnostic terminal. "I really want to go back to sleep."

You shrugged. "I don't know." Dash had been looking for any excuse to start a conversation with you since you'd arrived. You wanted to stare at the terminal screen.

"Are you always this mean?"

"Yes," you replied. "Always."

He sighed. "You definitely won't get a boyfriend that way."

A vein pulsed in your temple. "Wow," you said, "and here I was hoping you'd forgotten about all of that in the two weeks I've been off-duty."

"What do you do when you're off-duty, anyway?" He shifted, trying to catch your gaze.

Masturbate to Kylo Ren. "Nothing." You hoped your deliberate avoidance of him wasn't too obvious--but then again, maybe you wanted it to be obvious. "Read a lot. Nap a lot. That's it."

"Nothing else?" he asked. "You don't go hooking up with anybody?"

You rolled your eyes. "Gods, you're persistent."

He shrugged. "I've been asking about you, you know."

Your brain slammed the brakes--when you went to swallow, you found yourself struggling to stuff down the massive stone that had formed in your throat. "Asking about me, huh?" Better to sound curious, rather than alarmed. "What do you mean?"

"Well--"

The blast door to the docking bay slid open in a long, jarring screech, and your heart leapt in a blend of relief and panic when that silenced him. Did you need to be worried? What had he found out? Who had he been talking to? Questions you had to consider--and questions you immediately forgot about when you saw the black, knife-sharp silhouette of the Command Shuttle float through the opening hatch. A fluttering wave of joy and hope and fear crashed over you. Dash was inconsequential now--a dust particle in the wind of your desire. Whatever he found out about you could wait.

When the shuttle landed, your heartbeat was throbbing in your face--a throbbing that resonated over the rest of your body as the ramp hit the ground with a rush of steam. Your lungs were frozen, ears straining for the stomping of boots as you waited for someone--anyone--to exit the ship. Though you would have preferred Kylo Ren.

The ramp had been on the ground for only seconds when the Stormtroopers came charging down like frightened cattle, a desperation present in their race to distance themselves from the shuttle. Dread dripped into your ribcage, thick with apprehension. You glanced at Dash, whose eyes followed the Stormtroopers out of the docking bay before he turned to you.

"What's that about?" he asked.

You sighed. "Nothing good."

He hesitated, eyes darting between you and the ground. "Should--should I..."

"No." You straightened, rolling your shoulders. "Let me handle this."

"But what if he--y'know--he seems kind of..." There was genuine concern in Dash's voice. Maybe he didn't know everything, then.

"At this point, Commander Ren doesn't scare me," you said. "I've seen enough of him to last a lifetime." Okay, that was too cheeky.

Letting out another sigh, you made your way over to the shuttle and stared up the ramp. Inside of the ship, you saw the dying crimson glow of melted metal, tiny snaps of light still sparking out of the walls. The smell of plasma was absent from the air--this wasn't a recent incident. But the fact that it had occurred at all started a fire in the pits of your veins.

Was he seriously going to deface the shuttle now, knowing you had to work on it? Did he actually have that little respect for you or your job--still? You stormed up the ramp, the thoughts coming faster than you could filter them. Maybe it was because he didn't really give a shit about you anymore. Because he was too busy worrying about that other girl, the scavenger, whoever that girl was.

You'd spent two entire weeks wringing your hands over that mess--at this point, you'd over-analyzed the few sentences you'd heard him speak down to the pauses for breath. Those pauses had to have some meaning, dammit, you were sure of it...

Kylo Ren was in the pilot's chair when you entered the ship, unfettered fury already tightening your fists and festering in your chest. You were halfway to him when you started speaking.

"Are you fucking serious, dude?" You stopped at the threshold to the cockpit--not that brave just yet. "You know who has to go through this, right?"

He refused to face you, not even uttering a word as he finished reviewing the flight data on the screen. But your impatience was bubbling.

"I'm just wondering, do you ever take time to think--" You paused. You were not in his quarters. This was the Command Shuttle, and the ramp was down. When you next spoke, your voice was a whisper. "Do you ever take time to think about how things you do might affect me? You know--the woman you've been fucking for almost half a year?"

More silence. It was as if you were a ghost. Where was his tender concern now? Probably used all of it on that girl.

"How can you seriously go from--"

His gaze met yours through the mask. "What were you doing in my quarters?"

The question arrested you, cooling the boil of anger inside your stomach, and your jaw hung open without an answer. Kylo stood, a black flourish springing from his chair--towering over you--and you spat out your response.

"You knew?"

"Yes," he replied, stepping toward you. "You're very loud." You held your ground, letting his enormous chest bump yours. The heat of his body was suffocating. "Now tell me--why were you there?"

His modulated voice still had the power to send tremors of arousal rumbling through you--which you hated, because all you wanted to do was get answers. Answers about his behavior. About who that girl was--that girl who, based off of about three sentences, you'd determined he was fucking. And though you and Kylo hadn't ever agreed on anything specifically monogamous--or anything at all, really, apart from, sure, I'll be yours, there were some practical concerns. Like, diseases, and such. And if he was cuddling her at night. And kissing her forehead. And telling her all the things he never, ever told you.

Practical.

Choosing to ignore the trembling brought on by your confrontation, you shrugged. "I had my reasons."

He was motionless, but you could feel his eyes wandering over your body, assessing you. "You're afraid."

You weren't about to let him intimidate you into submission--if he could sense that, he already knew what your problem was, too. "Who is she?"

He tensed, if only for a second, deciding to shoulder you aside and push past you. But you weren't done yet. Growling, you snatched his cowl, ripping it toward you--and though he barely registered the attempt, it was enough to make him spin, hunched in annoyance, like a predator ready to pounce.

"Who is she?" you asked again, fingers curling into the fabric.

Kylo was still, shoulders bunching with his breath, but after a moment, he loosened, and you dropped the cloak. "She's none of your concern."

You blinked, stifling a laugh. There was no way he could say that to you. Not after you'd spent the past two weeks obsessing about their relationship. "Pretty sure she is."

"No." His arms flexed with his restraint. "She is not. Enough." He turned, starting toward the ramp.

"You know what," you said, crossing your arms--and he stopped. "Between you disrespecting my work, avoiding any actual conversation with me, and now your inability to tell me about this other girl, I'm really starting to think that you don't actually give a single shit about me."

He didn't move--didn't even face you.

"Maybe all of that sweet stuff you do is just to keep me on the hook. Because, actually, I'm pretty sure you're still a complete asshole."

At that, he whirled--he was a black storm, his gaze ripping through you like lightening. "Your insistence that I must entertain every fleeting worry that ails you is, at best, naive. At worst, juvenile. You understand so little. I say this not as a request, but as an order: do not enquire into my personal affairs again."

You frowned. "Oh, so she's personal?"

He made to move toward you, stopping at the sound of feet on the ramp.

"Hey, it's me," came the voice below the shuttle. Dash. You didn't know if you felt relieved or disappointed. "Just coming to make sure everything's going okay..."

Before Dash could finish his sentence, Kylo Ren was gone, marching down the ramp in half a breath Your mind was spinning--but any questions you had were silenced when Dash poked his way into the ship.

"He seemed mad," he said, lopsided mouth twisted in a grin.

"Oh. That's how he always is. It's normal."

Dash nodded while he examined the damage slashed into the walls. "Oh," he said. "Oh, wow." He looked to you, pointing at the welting metal. "Is this--is this normal?"

You wanted to move, but found you were unable--as if Kylo had paralyzed you with the Force. "No," you replied. "Not really. Something probably pissed him off on the way back from his mission." You couldn't stop wondering if it had been that girl. Maybe he'd gotten mad he had to leave her.

"Gotcha." Dash dragged a finger down a crevice left by the lightsaber. "So, are we gonna get to work repairing this, or not?"

"Uh..."

"We don't have to," he said. "We can... do other stuff, instead."

Bile burbled in your stomach. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. In fact, it was the last conversation you wanted to have. You wondered if you could use the Force--but after concentrating hard on the idea of throwing Dash into the wall with no success, you admitted defeat. His anticipation of your response still hung heavy in the air.

"Not much else to do." You turned to the cockpit, hoping to end it there.

"I can think of some things." His voice was darker than you remembered, and it sent a cold chill to your toes. "Like I said--I've been asking about you."

The icy hands of fear gripped your bones, and the urge to bolt down the ramp rocketed into the nearest star. Acknowledging his statement would be an invitation for him to say even more, but the tone in his voice told you that he'd try to escalate, even if you chose to remain silent. The floor vibrated with his footsteps--louder as he grew closer--and you screamed at your legs to move, to take you anywhere but inside of the shuttle.

"Actually." You faced him, the quick pivot halting him in his tracks. "I think we should work on this tomorrow."

His eyes widened, brow furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah." You held your palm to your stomach. "I'm really not feeling well, actually." Not a complete lie.

"Oh." He blinked, looking between you and the wall. "Well. Okay... I gue--"

You nodded. "Welp, uh, see you tomorrow. I'm going to get some more rest!" By the time you'd finished talking, you'd scurried around him and down the ramp, wiping away the perspiration that had gathered on your forehead.

The distress signal Dash was setting off in your brain was only growing more urgent. You needed to tell someone--but the only person you'd wanted to tell had basically just told you to fuck off. Was this a juvenile, fleeting worry? Or was it something more serious? Between your own self-doubt and your possible denial that he wouldn't dare, you couldn't tell. All you knew was the vibe he gave you--the uneasy, vomit-inducing panic--and your need to avoid it.

A feeling flooded you, one you had difficulty identifying at first. But that was mainly because that despite filling you, you'd never felt more empty, or more barren. Kylo didn't have time for your feelings, Dash's interests were purely physical, and you'd long fucked up with Sam--he'd be getting with Minks any day, now. So there it was--you'd managed to ruin the only relationship where you had value, and now you were surrounded by men who couldn't give less of a fuck about you, or what you needed or wanted. Was there something wrong with you? Looking at everything you'd managed to mess up, maybe it was because in reality, you didn't actually possess any value.

Maybe you were just worthless.

You bit your lip, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. Your embarrassment only doubled when, through your bleary gaze, you spotted Minks at the end of the hall, headed in your direction. She must have been on her way to work--even if it was still early.

"Hey!" she called, jogging toward you. "Long time no see!" It was true. It'd been at least a week since you'd met her and Sam for a meal.

Sniffing up any snot that wanted to leak from your nose, you nodded, hoping you looked as casual as possible. "I know."

"Where are you headed?" She must have seen through your facade. "You okay?"

You shook your head. "Yeah, just a little sick," you replied. "But, uh, enough about me. How are you?"

Her face exploded with light, and she squeezed your hand, happiness bursting at her seams. "I'm great!" she cried, and came closer, lowering her voice. "Guess what."

The bile from earlier was crawling up your throat--but you put on your most enthusiastic face. "Um, what?"

She squealed. "Last night, Sam and I kissed!"

Well. That was it. "Cool," you managed to say, right before heaving a stomach's load of vomit right onto her shoes.

The next moments were fuzzy in your head--a mish-mosh of muddled memories. You knew she hadn't necessarily liked being thrown-up on, but you also knew that her sympathy for you outweighed her disgust, and she went from horrified to concerned in an amount of time that belonged in the record books.

You remembered an argument about going to the medbay before she finally settled on walking with you to your quarters, and you remembered her hand on your back, comforting and kind. You remembered, also, trying to tell her about what had happened with Dash, but perhaps in her bewilderment--and her desire to change clothes--she had dismissed you.

"Don't worry about him," she had told you. "He's just awkward. But he's harmless, really. You can even ask Sam."

You remembered when she dropped you off at your room, and you remembered thinking, but what if it's because of Sam that he's so harmless around you. You remembered staring into the mirror, wanting to shatter what you saw. You remembered the loneliness, white and hollow and so, so raw. You remembered the hatred--a black anger that bit into your skin and bled red blood down your palms.

You remembered when you thought of Kylo's face, beautiful and scarred and cold--and you remembered when you threw yourself into the shower, the heat of the water hiding the hot tears streaking tracks down your cheeks.